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Five wasn’t sure what exactly brought him here, to Dublin of all places, to the address of a local Butcher shop but here he was. It wasn’t by chance he remembered the name, of course. Even with a looming doomsday on their heads again, he remembered her face, the name of the butchers, the- well.
He absorbed all the information, something he’d been doing for years in the apocalypse, learning anything and everything he could.
Some skills and information he learnt to survive, understandably, but some was to pass the time. Some evenings (or he thought they were evenings, it was hard to tell sometimes, the ash and smoke coating the atmosphere messed up his body clock mere weeks into his stay at the end of the world,) when it was just him and Delores in their makeshift home of the month, he’d read out loud to her, whatever book he could find that wasn’t ash. He’d read and read until he coughed and gagged, ash and soot in his throat, his lungs, dehydrated and choking, but the information stuck. He’d read everything from mechanical instruction guides to cook books to knitting magazines… He was good at remembering things. He had to be. What else was there for him?
But here he was, in Dublin, outside a familiar butcher shop with a sign proudly declaring almost a hundred years of family run service.
He’d come alone. He wasn’t sure why, he’d almost longed to ask one of his ridiculous siblings to come along, just as Klaus had and yet he’d left them all to their own devices. Diego was busy looking after Lila and the nearing appearance of their spawn, Luther had reunited with Sloane and Five had learnt by now not to barge in on them because apparently Luther was no longer a monkey and instead was a rabbit…
Allison was.. Well. He couldn’t say they were on great terms and while he loved his only sister regardless of her actions, she wasn’t his favourite person right now. They'd need more time for those wounds to heal.
Ben, that is to say, the Sparrow, and Klaus had somehow ended up living with one another after Klaus’ arguably efficient babysitting duties of Luther ended (after the other found his wife.) It was almost comical how regardless of timelines and history, that the two gravitated to one another. Ben was still an asshole and Klaus was still a little shit but Klaus seemed to be the only one Ben would tolerate in a world where nobody knew him, where there was no Infamous Sparrow Academy, face on every billboard, every street…
Klaus and Ben, the last Five heard, were going to Korea to track down Ben’s Mother. Five thought it was fitting. He’d accompanied Klaus on his quest to find his Mother (even if she’d been dead) it was almost sweet Klaus helped someone in turn…
And that left only Viktor. While his smallest brother hadn’t strayed far from Obsidian, had stuck close by should his siblings need him, Five hadn’t reached out to him to accompany him to Dublin… He’d wanted to, he’d really wanted the company but.. Well he didn’t know. It felt like something he should do alone. He craved the support, for someone to tell him it would be okay even if he’d never admit it out loud, never tell a soul he needed help… he was stubborn and so independent… The apocalypse had made him so.
Someone barged past him, muttering about kids and blocking doorways and Five unfroze from his thoughts and entered the shop after the man. The bell above the door rang and the cold air hit him. The man behind the counter was younger, smartly and hygienically dressed, apron, hat, gloves and yet the eyes peeking out from under the white hat had him double take.
His own eyes.
In fact, while they weren’t identical, Five could spot a few similarities between himself and the older teen. (The kid looked about 19 or so, probably fresh out of College.) The same eyes, the shade of his skin, same nose shape, eye colour-
The kid’s eyes swept over him for a second before returning and frowning, coming to a similar conclusion.
“Mum-” He called back into the side room where Five could hear the pausing sound of a blade, a dull thunk from where it had clearly been put down and then the older woman appeared. The young lad behind the counter moved on to serve the man who’d barged into Five in the doorway while the woman stared at him and Five could only stare back.
He wasn’t one for sentimentality, for ridiculous notions of romance and love and poetics (though he loved his dumbass family, that was a different kind of love.) Still, this felt different, felt not like what he felt for his family, nor the stupid butterfly feeling people claimed. It was some indescribable sensation, some sort of calming peace like ‘ah, I see.’ It felt like reassurance and agreement and-
Five blinked because staring was starting to look weird, and no, not blinked as in his power because that was still sadly gone, but blinked as in his eyes finally closed and the spell-like connection between them broke.
This woman was his Mother, the same woman from the Article, from the erased Kugelblitz universe… and the boy was his brother… would have been his brother…
Aoife Dunne. Part of a family line of proud Irish Butchers.
“I’m going to take a quick break, Finn, call Liam if you need help, okay?”
“Sure Mum.” The kid spoke as the rude customer from earlier paid and left leaving the store empty.
“You, in here now.” Aoife spoke, pulling open the hatch and letting Five in. Five didn’t question things and followed silently, ignoring the kid, Finn apparently, who was staring at him in awe.
Aoife led him through some backrooms and up a flight of stairs and into a nice sitting room. Minimalistic and yet soothing, calm creams and browns and beige in contrast.
“Take a seat.”
Five hesitantly complied and took a seat. Aoife took a seat opposite and stared at him, a few seconds turned into a minute of awkwardness before Five spoke.
“Look I-”
“Finley.”
“I’m sorry what?”
“I called you Finley. I think.”
“...What?” Five asked, quietly.
“Your name. I called you Finley I think.” Aoife spoke carefully. “Of course I’ve never met you though. I didn't even think you were real until now but here you are. My son."
"Look I- You remember me?" Five asked because that was impossible, in this timeline he didn't exist so how did his mother know him?
"I've been seeing you in my dreams for years." Aoife answered. "Sometimes it's a blur but sometimes it feels so real." Aoife explained, continuing to speak while Five leaned forward in his chair, interest peaked.
"I named my son, the one you met downstairs, Finn. It felt like I was honouring you even if you weren't real? It made no sense I know. I simply felt as though you appeared too frequently to be a figment of my imagination. And little Finn looked rather similar to you, it seemed too… Well."
"I see. Something must have bled through somehow…" Five mussed, or perhaps there was more to this new reality than met the eye. He'd have to investigate, run some numbers but for now…
"My name is Five and yes you were my Mother, in a different timeline… Somehow you're retaining memories of it in your dreams."
Aoife didn't respond but it looked like a weight had been taken off her shoulders. She stood carefully and crossed the distance. Five tensed but didn't move, instead he only froze when the older woman embraced him?
"I apologise then. I apologise I sold you, that I didn't raise you, that you felt the need to run away." Aoife's voice cracked and Five hesitantly replied to the hug, his own arms curling around her back.
This had turned out better than he'd expected and yet at the same time, raised questions he didn't want to have to think about. He was meant to be retired, for real this time and here he was, with cracks visible in reality.
"It's...it's fine, really. It never even happened in this universe anymore. You were what… Nineteen? Twenty?"
"Nineteen, I think."
"Exactly. Hardly the age you want to raise a child you weren't expecting. Besides… It might not have been the greatest childhood." Five admitted, winching when Aoife pulled back, fingers wiping at her teary eyes and a whispered apology.
"While it wasn't the best… I'm glad. I'm glad at least I had my sister and my brothers, they're my family too and I’m… as deplorable as they can be sometimes I.. I do love them and I’m glad to have them.” Five admitted and it wasn’t something he was going to repeat to any of them because he’d never hear the end of it.
“I’m glad then.” Aoife wiped her eyes a little more and stepped back enough to perch back into the chair. Five awkwardly hoisted himself to his feet.
“Yeah. I don’t think I was ever going to be cut out for normal life anyway… I-” Five shrugged where he stood, adjusting his jacket to avoid the emotional conversation. He was never good at portraying how he felt without it coming off as insulting or standoffish.
“I get it. I do. I remember. I remember I used to watch every interview, every documentary or- anything I could get my hands on. You are a bright kid, so bright, and I only wish I’d had the chance to be there for it.” Aoife admitted, looking down at her hands that trembled ever so slightly until she clenched them into fists.
Five wasn’t sure how to respond to that. His Mother, even in the original timeline, had followed him? Had made sure to keep track of his life, him, an unwanted child that had appeared from nowhere and taken by a billionaire?
Five nodded, unable to formulate words nor put a word on the feeling in his chest that he could only compare to being thirteen, surrounded by ash and smoke and unable to choke down sobs as he dragged his siblings into shallow graves.
“Oh honey.” Aoife murmured and then was back on her feet, dragging Five into another hug he melted into. He’d gone a long time without anyone else's touch in the Apocalypse.
At first, when he’d ended up at The Commission, it was okay. He scared everyone away who dared approach him, a lone assassin who only ever really had to talk with the Handler and while she was… peculiar, she didn’t seem to have any urge to touch him while he was old and weary. But once he returned to his family, every little touch from his siblings, from people, from anyone- it made his skin crawl, feel odd, like it wasn’t his own, like it was rotting under every touch of warmth from another-
He’d hated it and it was only with time and gritting his teeth he became accustomed. His own stupid form of exposure therapy. It was only after countless hair ruffles from Klaus, the little touches of fingers on his arms from Viktor or the oddly reassuring back-slaps from Diego. Five grew desensitised. He didn’t feel disgusted or repulsed anymore, just… numb. Indifferent. It no longer bothered him but it didn’t comfort him either. He couldn’t understand how exactly a hug made some people look so safe and content… but…
A part of him wanted to say he understood a little better now. His Mother was a stranger to him, he knew little about her but she felt so familiar too, so safe and welcoming, and maybe that familiarity was what made the contact just a little bit more…more?
He didn’t know, but for the first time in a long time, Five allowed himself just a moment of weakness, of vulnerability and Aoife said nothing but whispered reassurances while Five’s fingers dug into her shirt and his sobs muffled into her collarbone.
